


Steelhide: Armoured Warfare in the New World

by houndeye



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Military, Cold War, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Original Character(s), Soviet Union
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houndeye/pseuds/houndeye
Summary: Nowhere has the aftermath of the Cold War been more devastating than the ancient world of Eonos. First visited by human explorers in the early 20th century, the existence of a world in a parallel dimension to Earth was not public knowledge until the Soviet invasion of 1984. Overnight, the kingdoms and empires that shared the planet were swept aside and replaced by a United Socialist Republic. Yet just six years later, the Soviets withdrew, plunging Eonos into chaos and leaving behind more civil wars than the United Nations could ever hope to control. Since then, human peacekeepers and mercenaries alike have crossed over to the other side, bringing with them both technological wonders and terrors.Yet for some, the Other Side holds more than just the promise of riches and adventure. For Peter Sokolov, a wanted man on Earth and the commander of a ragtag private army, it's personal...
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still thinking about my fanfics...maybe publishing some original writing I've been doing in the meantime will give me some inspiration. Until then, enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think! :)

Harvest season was the busiest time of year for the inhabitants of Goldstead. Nestled between the banks of a river and the thickly forested hills to the north, every square metre of arable land outside the walls was given over to agriculture, a patchwork of fields stretching as far as the eye could see. But today, the harvest lay ungathered in the fields. The flashing of sickles, and the cries of oxen and men alike that accompanied it, were absent. The only sound that could be heard across the fields that led down to the river was the steady tolling of a bell.

Peering over the wall was the town militia, a ragged looking assortment of humans clutching whatever weapons they had to hand. The few professional soldiers in the watch were gathered in the gatehouse, herding the townsfolk that had been working in the fields inside the safety of the walls.

Over the sound of the tolling bells, a terrible roar echoed out from the forest. The sound seemed to intensify the panic amongst the townsfolk, and the watchmen scrambled to close the gates as more voices joined the distant howling.

The first cyclops broke out of the treeline at a run, emerging onto the field with another blood-curdling roar. Twenty-five feet tall, armoured and clutching a huge shield and war hammer, the monster trampled down the wooden fence at the edge of the field and made a beeline for the wall. Two more opted for a more direct route, smashing through a wooden hut at the edge of the forest as they charged. Behind them came the haflings, more than a score. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, some shambling, others running. Cyclopes could interbreed with most forms of life, producing monstrous offspring that accompanied them into battle.

Wielding a huge maul with a head the size of a boulder, the leading cyclops strode ahead of the pack, heading directly for the town. A line of sharpened stakes arranged in front of the town wall offered little protection as the monster crashed through them. The creatures were now just a few hundred metres from the town, and closing rapidly. From the walls, the militia let fly with the few projectile weapons they had to hand. Slings, bows and even a handful of muskets showered the attackers with projectiles, but to little effect.

Suddenly, a streak of white light stabbed out from the treeline above the town. It struck the shield the first cyclops was carrying, blasting through it with a terrific explosion that cut the monster in two at the waist. A shower of blood and burning metal splattered against the haflings around it, setting the hairier ones ablaze. As the sound of the explosion faded over the battlefield, smaller projectiles began to pour out from the trees with a loud popping sound, skimming off the ground and punching through armour and flesh alike. The second cyclops only managed to swing its shield in the general direction of the unseen enemy before a glowing light ricocheted off it and passed through its eye socket in a shower of gore.

"Good shot, Sergeant! All units, hold fire. We can handle the rest from here."

Through my periscope, I watched as the attackers faltered, the sudden death of their leaders throwing them into confusion. A puff of propellant gas briefly obscured my vision as the breech of the cannon opened beneath me. Cursing the faulty fume extractor, I cracked open my hatch to allow the smoke to clear.

"Gunner - eyeball on his left. Loader – frag!"

From somewhere near the stowage bins on the turret floor came a gruff voice. "Out of frag, sir!"

"Give me HEAT!" Reaching forward, I slapped the shoulder of my gunner, signalling for them to cease fire with the machine gun. With practiced ease, the loader drew another 100mm shell from the rack behind his seat and rammed it into the breech. As the loading gate rasped shut, he quickly produced another round and took up position, ready to reload.

The face of the remaining cyclops loomed large in my periscope. With two dead and many more wounded by shrapnel, any normal enemy would have broken and fled. But even with an arm missing, and surrounded by dead and dying haflings, the cyclops waved an axe in the direction of the town and roared in defiance.

"HEAT up sir!" A green light appeared on the gunner's sight in front of me, indicating that the cannon was ready to fire.

"Fire."

The tank shuddered; a muffled thump followed by a crash as the gun recoiled back into the turret. A huge fireball flashed in front of my optics as the shell left the barrel, kicking up a cloud of dust that briefly obscured the battlefield. When it cleared, the last cyclops had vanished, with nothing but a crater remaining where it had been standing. As clods of earth and body parts rained down around them, the remaining haflings broke and began to flee back into the woods, with another burst of tracer fire from the coaxial machine gun mowing down the stragglers.

A cheer went up from the town militia on the wall, joined by a few enthusiastic whoops that were audible over the company radio. In the tank, there was a brief silence as the crew paused to await my next order, broken only by the clatter of the shell casing being ejected from the cannon.

"That's the lot. Stand down." Unplugging my helmet intercom, I swung open my hatch and pulled myself out onto the roof of the turret, eager to get out of the stifling heat inside.

"Woo-hoo! Did you see that first shot, sir? Who knew haflings burned like that!"

Sergeant Teeva had followed me out of the commander's hatch, and was now perched on the barrel of the cannon. Massaging the blood back into her pointed ears, the elf flashed me her characteristic grin.

"Good shooting Teeva. Looks like you've adjusted to those new craft-made shells."

"Oh yes, the latest batch has just the right powder mix for my liking!" Still beaming, Teeva patted the roof of the tank like a beloved pet. "Ulther helped me clean the barrel last night too, which I think made all the difference."

At the mention of his name, the loader swung open his hatch to the right of mine. The dwarf sighed with relief as he emerged from the heat inside the tank, untucking his beard from inside his coveralls.

"That we did, sir. And I saw what happened with the bore evacuator, I'll mend it in camp tonight. Can't have smoke blowing in our faces mid-battle."

"That would be perfect." Teeva leaned over, and planted a kiss on the loader's forehead. "If I may be dismissed, Comm-"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "Go, make it quick!"

Ulther and I watched as she leapt down from the tank and disappeared into the treeline behind us. With a sigh, I stepped off the track guard and onto the ground, and began fishing around for a cigarette.

"You can hardly tell she's just blown something to kingdom come. Honestly, I'm not sure I could have taken another week of elven hyperactivity."

Ulther stepped down next to me, a feat made slightly more difficult by his short stature. Before I could offer him a cigarette, he had already produced a brass pipe from within his uniform and was fishing around for his lighter. "Aye sir. Let's hope that's got it out of her system for now."

"You don't have to sit behind her. I swear, if I ever meet the man who designed the commander's seat on the T-55..." As I spoke, I lifted my binoculars and aimed them in the direction of the town below us. "Looks like the civilians want to talk. Go up the line and tell the other vehicles to ready up, I'll be back in a second. Do I look...presentable?"

"In a style befitting your knightly status, sir. Besides, I'm not seeing any other nobles around to challenge you on that." With a salute, Ulther turned and headed towards the next tank a little further up the hill, still puffing on his pipe.

I returned his salute with a wry smile. I was dressed as a knight, though in a style that had only recently come into fashion on Eonos. Resplendent in olive green coveralls, army boots and a leather utility belt that carried my shining sword – or in this case, an old Makarov pistol. Leaving my trusty steed in its hull-down position, I donned my Soviet-style tanker helmet and set off down the hill towards the town.

Even on chilly mornings, my helmet was perfectly designed to make the head of any species uncomfortably hot and sweaty within minutes, and I was still mopping my face as the delegation approached. A chorus of "Thank you, sir Knight!" went up from the townsfolk as I took the hand of the elder.

"Please, no need to thank us. You did the right thing when you sent for the Lifeguards."

"About that, my lord..."

I pointed back up to the hill. "We've brought you a replacement radio. Your boy made good time on that horse of his but if he'd gotten lost, we wouldn't have made it. Look after this one!"

The townsfolk murmured their approval, and from behind the crowd I could see a few men struggling to roll a large barrel of ale up the hill towards us, no doubt as a gift. I smiled and shook hands with the elders, but as I glanced repeatedly back towards the company position, I could see no sign of the radio or the vehicle that had been carrying it. As the crews of the other vehicles began to appear in dribs and drabs to accept their "gifts", I excused myself and jogged up the trail that led back into the woods.

Suddenly, something leapt out from behind a bush and knocked me off balance. Whatever it was let out a triumphant yell, and I saw a flash of steel. My pistol had almost cleared its holster before I recognised the silver hair of my assailant.

"Teeva! Uh..."

"Commander!" Ever cheerful, the elf lowered the knife and laughed, as though she had not just been trying to kill me. "I thought you were a deer, sneaking around like that! I guess my devotion will have to wait...unless you want to-"

With a start, I rose to my feet, sending the elf tumbling back into the leaflitter. "Later, Sergeant! Have you seen Captain White anywhere? He's got that radio we were supposed to drop off with the civvies."

Teeva clapped a hand over her mouth, supressing a sudden giggle. "Oh Commander! I tried not to laugh, but I saw them on the road just now! They were in that ditch we nearly fell in yesterday."

"That explains it. Well, when you're done, mount up and await my orders. Maybe tell Reynauld to warm up the engine and drive up here, we're probably going to have to pull White out. And Teeva?"

The elf flipped the knife over in her hand and secreted it back into her boot holster. "Sir?"

"I want to go and take a look at the field before we leave. Would the corpses down there be...uh...sufficient?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sticking half in and half out of a deep ditch by the side of the trail was a BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicle. The APC had a long boat-like hull flanked by thin tracks, and topped by a comparatively tiny turret, sporting a 73mm cannon. The crew, consisting of a human and two dwarfs, were in the process of attaching a thick steel cable to a tow hook on the front of the hull when I approached. A gaggle of infantrymen, mostly humans, were milling about in roadway. As they belonged to the premier fighting force in the kingdom, they had the luxury of owning an assault rifle each, though their uniforms were the usual mix of Soviet gear patched over with local leatherwork.

"...the other side, get it dug in before you slide it under." I recognised the voice of Captain Dennis White, the American commander of the Royal Mechanised Infantry company.

Grinning, I held my wristwatch up to the light. "Hmmm. That's twenty minutes, thought you said you'd have it out by now?"

"Fuck off. If Tosh hadn't dug us deeper by going full throttle when I told him to stop, we'd have been out in five." White glared at one of the dwarfs, who wrung his soft cap between his hands nervously. "How'd it go up there? Didn't hear much shooting."

"Three eyeballs and a bunch of halflings. I reckon this was the group that hit those farms on the Ochre River last week. Not sure why they'd come this far into the kingdom, must be pretty desperate."

"Guess that strike last month killed a few more than we thought. Fingers crossed that we've made them an endangered species around here." White stood up, wiping his hands on his uniform. "Might as well send my guys in to secure the town. Make sure they don't get lost, will you?"

"No problem. I'll send my tank up here to pull you out."

With the infantry in tow, I jogged back down the track and returned to the company position overlooking the town. The crisp morning air was filled with the rumble of tank engines and the shouts of their crews as the nine other tanks under my command prepared to move out.

L-1, my personal vehicle, was a T-55M, a modernised variant of Earth's most produced tank. Weighing in at almost forty tons, it was small and undergunned by the standards of today's Abrams and Leopard tanks, but out here the legendary reliability and simplicity of the vehicle made it the tank of choice for the Kingdom of Hyneron. The old Socialist army had received seventy of the type back in the 1980s to equip their tank divisions, and they had fought in nearly every conflict on Eonos since. Fewer than half of those were known to have survived the War of the Seal, and even fewer without being extensively rebuilt by dwarven engineers. As I approached L-1, I could see the booted feet of Private Reynauld sticking out from underneath the hull.

"Reynauld?"

"Commander!" With a start, the gangly teenager pulled himself out from under the tank and stood to attention. " I...I was just checking the thaumic countermeasures. I don't think any magic came our way, but you never know. There are reports of mountain clan 'mancers as far as Eastervarn, and I wouldn't-"

"At ease, at ease." I jerked a thumb towards the tool kit on the hull of the tank. "We're heading back now. Before we do, would you mind filling in the trench? Would be rude to leave it as is."

Nodding, Reynauld began to udo the latches on the toolbox. A chorus of laughter went up from the infantry as I cracked him across the helmet with my glove.

"I'm joking! Crank it up and get us back on the road. Captain White fell in that ditch I warned you to steer clear of, we've got to pull him out."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Does she really have to do that?"

Dennis was looking past me towards where Teeva was hunched over the corpse of a particularly large hafling. My tank and crew had escorted the infantry down to the battlefield to examine the aftermath of the cyclops attack, and my subordinate and I had dismounted for a closer look.

"Elves will be elves, Captain. Remember Tookwool? Never seen a BTR driven like that, so we put up with it. Maybe he'd still be with us if he'd gotten that wound checked out, but still, that's the price we pay for having them in the company."

"Crazy bastard, not a nice way to go." Dennis grimaced as he turned his attention to the cyclops at our feet. "Ironwood shields? Since when did the mountain clans have an R&D department?"

I ran my hand across the surface of the shield. The metal face was pitted and scarred by numerous pieces of shrapnel, and even a few places where machine gun rounds had struck but not penetrated. The hole left by the HEAT round was roughly the size of my fist, and still warm to touch. Peering through, I could see that the shield was actually composed of several layers of material.

"Steel on the front, ironwood in the middle, then whatever this is...and steel on the back. Clever. Not enough to stop a 100 mil, but small arms might struggle."

"Well, Pete? Assessment? And don't say Mindscrivers, you'll freak the locals out."

I grimaced. "I mean...maybe they came up with the idea themselves? You know, in between mindlessly banging everything that moves for miles and rolling around in their own dung. Sure, they came up with the idea for composite armour on their own. Or..."

Dennis rolled his eyes. "Here we go with your conspiracy theory."

"...or, maybe people who know all about composite armour and what makes it useful are arming groups like the mountain clans in order to cause chaos in the kingdoms? Just like they have done dozens of times before? Think about it."

"You're giving a lot of credit to a bunch of commie magicians. Twenty years and they haven't figured out how to get off that island, but you think they're running a proxy war."

After examining the equipment of the cyclops, Dennis whistled for his BMP, and with the help of the vehicle we dragged the larger corpses back to solid ground. The shield fit neatly into the troop compartment of the BMP, and I tossed a few other interesting items into the storage bins on my tank for later.

As the infantry set about piling up the corpses into a bonfire, a chorus of shouts alerted us to the approach of the townsfolk. Bearing goblets, barrels of wine, and even some of the less able town elders, we were quickly surrounded by the cheering throng. Before I could stop them, the troops were mingling with the civilians, their duties forgotten, happily accepting the hospitality.

Ulther passed me a goblet, along with a scrap of paper. "Message just came through from the palace, sir. It's...ah, not the news you were perhaps hoping for."

"Ah, this will be for the support weapons I ordered...to...he did what?"

Peering over my shoulder, Dennis chuckled. "Glad to see the royals still have their priorities in order."

"But it's the last piece of functional rocket artillery in the kingdom!"

Dennis shrugged. "It's his Highness's birthday, and he loves fireworks."

The crowd raised their drinks in a toast. "To his Majesty's Royal Lifeguards! Protectors of the Kingdom of Hyneron! Long live the King!"

Putting on a smile, I clambered onto the roof of the armoured personnel carrier and raised my goblet, with Dennis following suit. "Long live the King!"


	2. Chapter 2

"It's beautiful, don't you think?"

"Incredible. How many other people have seen this?"

"Just us. I'm planning to surprise the King with it on his birthday."

I was seated at the edge of a huge shallow pool, in a chamber deep beneath the Royal Palace at Hyneron. Circular, and covering an area about the size of a football field, the pool was filled roughly knee-deep. Water from an underground stream dribbled in from holes in the ceiling, forming a slow whirlpool that terminated in a hole at the centre. Some unseen force, perhaps magic, was compelling the water to rotate at a constant speed, pushing firmly against my hand as I leaned over for a better look.

"The dwarves were so creative. Blackcrag seems like it goes on forever, and every room contains a marvel of engineering that rivals this. Maybe some that rival Earth's wonders, don't you think Commander?"

"They certainly could. Though the Soviets didn't think much of it, judging by the way they flattened the place. Even less of the elves, if you could call what they live in cities."

Lady Jalena, the King's eldest daughter, had invited me to walk with her when I arrived at the palace that morning. At twenty years of age, she was almost ten years younger than me but was one of the closest friends I'd made during my few years on Eonos. She was a keen amateur archaeologist and anthropologist, happy to listen for hours as I told her stories about Earth, and I had accompanied her into the dwarven ruins beneath the palace many times to view important new discoveries.

"It must be so much fun working with elves. There are so few in the Kingdom, and it's always a pleasure to talk to them when I get the chance. That young one under your command...Teeva, that's right! She is a real delight."

"Elves can be difficult, your highness. Having someone who's happy all the time and as skilled as Teeva can be a real asset, but they have their faults. They feel no pain, so any wound from the tiniest cut to the loss of a limb can be fatal."

"Surely someone like that could inspire courage on the battlefield? Levity, even?"

"Sometimes it's healthy for a soldier to feel a few negative emotions, like pain or fear. There's a disconnect, and it's bad after a battle. Everyone wants to slow down, process their emotions, and when an elf just wants to laugh it off like it's all a big joke..."

My voice trailed away, fading into the soft hiss of the whirlpool.

"Forgive me, sir. I know so little of the world, and it was wrong for me to generalise."

Shaking my head, I smiled and offered her my arm.

"Don't sell yourself short, my lady, you know plenty more about the world than I do. And as far as elves go, Teeva is one of the best I've ever met. I could have her stop by before our next mission, if you like. Shall we head back to the palace?"

Still chatting, we climbed the hundred-or so stairs out of the ruins to an inhabited section of the palace, emerging in the kitchens to the surprise of the servants hard at work inside. Although the Princess was not dressed in her usual finery, preferring a borrowed uniform of mine for spelunking, my garb made me instantly recognisable as a knight of the realm. As I was there on official business, I was wearing a suit of armour that befitted my noble status. It was hardly a full suit of Gothic plate, instead consisting of a shiny cuirass and a gorget of office around my neck, worn over the cleanest of my field uniforms and a garrison cap.

Leaving the kitchens, we climbed another staircase to the main level of the palace. Two Lifeguards from the infantry company saluted the princess and I as we passed into the throne room of King Braca, Lord of Hyneron and the Ochre River, who held court from his silver throne in the centre of the room. The King, however, was not on his throne, leaning over a map table beneath one of the windows instead. Standing next to the King, and looking rather out of place dressed in green camouflage fatigues, a blue beret and a surgical mask, was an officer from the United Nations. The red and white flag on his arm identified him as a member of the Garuda Contingent, the local force of Indonesian peacekeepers.

"Solokov! My brave master of arms, what brings you to the palace this morning!" The King addressed me in his typical booming voice, with a hint of a Russian accent.

I doffed my cap in his direction. "Your majesty, I have come to speak to Colonel Hartoyo about some important military matters."

"I heard about your fine work at Goldstead the other day, Solokov. Sounds like you gave those damned one-eyes a well-deserved thrashing!" King Braca slapped the Indonesian colonel on the back, a move that looked like it could have bowled the latter over, given the height difference. "That's what you need, Colonel. Take the fight to them next time, that's how you create a lasting peace!"

Smiling, I saluted the Indonesian, greeting him in what little of his language I knew. "Selamat pagi, Colonel Hartoyo. Apa kabar?"

"Fine, thank you Peter. Glad to see you looking better."

King Braca drained the last of a goblet of wine he had been drinking, and then took his daughter by the arm. "I'll leave you two to discuss strategy. Come, Jalena my dear! To the stables!"

Jalena gave me a wave as she was escorted out by her father. Smirking, Hartoyo and I watched as the two royals left the throne room.

"What's with the surgical getup? Saw a couple of your guys wearing them outside."

Hartoyo plucked at the edge of his mask as he fiddled with his moustache. "It's this pandemic, all sorts of new guidelines came through on infection control the other day."

"Oh yeah, I think I heard something about that on the radio. Like SARS, right?"

"There's a fear it could be really devastating if it spread here. I was over on the other side in the last month, so I've got to keep this mask on until my results come back."

"I'm sure we've got nothing to worry about." I chuckled. "The Kingdom of Hyneron, hand-washing capital of the New World."

"I have some other news from the other side that you may not be so cheerful about." Reaching into his pocket, Hartoyo pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. The moment my fingers closed around the envelope, and I saw the image printed on the paper inside, my heart sank. I could feel the eyes of the Colonel on me as I tore open the letter and began to read.

"Thirty-six years." I whistled. "I see those letters I sent through didn't help my defence much."

"You'll have to explain to me the American fascination with these highly specific prison times. Thirty-six years? Why not life, or execution?"

I rolled my eyes. "Glad you weren't on my defence team. Uncle Sam doesn't tend to like desertion, although I suppose my activities in support of the UN may have won me some brownie points."

There was a pause as I read the document in full, a laundry list of charges dating back to my initial deployment to Eonos in 2018. Desertion...guilty. Theft of government property...guilty, though it had only been for a day or two. Collusion with a foreign power...not sure how they figured that, but guilty. I sighed. None of these charges came as a surprise, but to see them all laid out in one document drove home the seriousness of my situation.

"So...I expect you're planning on arresting me now. We joked about it before, but now it's official. The Hague for me, I suppose."

Hartoyo smiled underneath his mask. "Until I receive specific orders to the contrary, I plan on keeping up our current relationship. This judgement against you...it should just remind you to stay honest with me about your intentions."

I nodded, trying not to let my relief show on my face. "No complaints there."

"And besides, the US doesn't tend to work with the International Criminal Court. So, unless we pull out and get replaced by some nation that the Americans can lean on, you're probably safe."

Whew. I owe you, Hartoyo. Smiling, and glad that the palace had no rules against smoking, I lit up. "So, what were you here to discuss with the King? Any major operations on your calendar?"

"For now, business as usual. Though a reconnaissance in force mission is on the cards in the next few weeks."

"Recon in force?" I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a little warlike for a peacekeeper."

"These insurgents are becoming a real menace. Nearly killed one of my men last week. And that's on top of the refugees from further north. The roads are jammed with all sorts fleeing past our base."

I took another drag on my cigarette as I considered the proposal. "What would you need us for?"

"An armoured thrust of some kind. Take your tanks a few miles over the border and cause some damage. That'd give us a chance to clear the villages closer to base, and start rehousing the refugees."

"Sounds plausibly deniable. I'm sure it wouldn't take too much work to convince the King to sanction the attack. Would we have air support?"

Hartoyo shrugged. "Maybe...it depends if we can spare the choppers."

"We'll certainly consider it. In the meantime, make sure this gets back to the States." Reaching under my coat, I pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. "And that's on top of our usual."

Hartoyo accepted the envelope. "Portal permitting, it should get there in a month or so. And my men dropped some things off at your HQ this morning."

"Wonderful. I might just go and take a look then. And I'll have an answer for you in a week or so, same frequency as last time."

Taking my hand, the Colonel gave it a firm shake, followed by a salute which I returned.

"Until next time Colonel, Indonesia raya and all that."

"I've met orcs that speak bahasa Indonesia better than you, Sokolov," he laughed. "Stay safe."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I stepped through the door to the motor pool just as two Indonesian peacekeepers were driving out in their truck, waving them by with a friendly salute. Here, the polished stone of Blackcrag gave way to more recent cobblestone structures, including the walls of the motor pool. The motor pool, a huge square with sides over a hundred metres long, was covered by a patchwork of tarpaulins to keep out the elements. Beyond the walls were a cluster of smaller barracks, workshops and storage buildings.

To my right as I entered through the main gate was the main armoured force of the Lifeguards, all ten T-55Ms lined up in their maintenance bays, with my vehicle visible at the far end. On the opposite side of the hall were the vehicles not currently in service with the company. These ranged from complete wrecks, kept only for their spare parts, to a handful that were nearly ready for active duty. A dozen T-55s, cars, trucks and a few BTR-60 armoured personnel carriers, most of which had been dragged in from battlefields elsewhere in the Kingdom, were arranged in neat rows. At the far end, dwarven mechanics were hard at work restoring three T-62M tanks, a project I was keen to see completed soon. Better armed and equipped than the T-55, these tanks would present a major upgrade to the Lifeguard's firepower if they could be made to run again. I paused in front of the one other vehicle currently in line for restoration, a ZSU-23-4 "Shilka", an anti-aircraft vehicle with a fearsome quad-barrelled autocannon, and admired the new engine the dwarves were lifting into position.

"Whatcha got there, Ulther?" My loader was walking past, a bundle of metal pipes tucked under his arm.

"Steam pipes, sir. Your comment the other day about warming the vehicles up before moving...it got me thinking."

"Yeah, an engine preheating system. What, you think you could rig one up?"

Ulther grinned. "It's as good as done, sir. The 'homes can supply more of this ducting to make it work."

Chuckling, I slapped the dwarf on the back. "The whole unit would be horse-drawn without you, Corporal. Keep it up."

Spying the stack of supplies left by Hartoyo's men, I eagerly began an inventory. The first stack of crates contained over three thousand rounds of 7.62x54 ammunition for the company's machine guns and personal weapons. Another crate contained 12.7mm ammunition for the dozen DShKM heavy machine guns mounted to the roofs of the tanks, pre-packed in belts of a hundred rounds. Finally, next to all of the usual contents of the delivery, I spied a long wooden box covered in warning labels.

PG-7VR, fuck yes! I reached into the box and gingerly withdrew one of the six rockets inside. Slightly longer than a standard RPG, the PG-7VR was a tandem-warhead rocket designed primarily to defeat tanks with ERA. Each rocket was more potent than any of the rounds fired by the T-55s parked around me, a fact that was not lost on the woman who was watching me handle the warheads with barely contained glee.

"Wow, I guess Hartoyo came through with the goods once again. What Soviet ruin did he go digging in to find these?"

Whistling, I mimed the rocket flying through the air and smacking against my hand. "Kaboom! These things are Mindscriver kryptonite. Better than our HEAT, better than the Bastions...kiss your precious ERA goodbye."

"If they don't shoot you first, of course."

"I'll use elves. Next best thing to laser guidance."

"There's only six rockets. And even if you kill their tanks, what about everything else? We threw more at them in the first few hours of '91 and it barely scratched them."

"Bec, please. I'm not saying I'm planning on storming Sarcog Island with Teeva and six rockets backing me up. But you and I both know that we need to build up an insurance policy in case they decide to make a move. I'll sleep better at night knowing that when the spells start flying and those T-72-whatevers come over the horizon, we can at least put a few dents in them."

Sergeant Rebecca God-In-The-Vale still looked sceptical as she bent to help me move the crate. A rare elf-human hybrid or "halfling", she was one of the few members of the Lifeguards besides myself and Captain White who were from Earth, although Rebecca had only visited for several short periods. Through a rather unfortunate process of trial and error, it was discovered that elves could not survive prolonged periods away from Eonos, and even halflings like Bec were doomed to slowly waste away without the influence of their home planet. Since the death of both her parents, first her human mother and then her elven father, she had been a tank commander in the Lifeguards.

"Medic! Can I get a medic over here?"

A sudden commotion from the far end of the rank caught our attention. Bec and I jogged up the line of tanks, joining a crowd of curious onlookers gathering around L-1. Teeva was sitting on a stool over by the far wall of the motor pool, her uniform torn and bloody, clutching her right shoulder. As I drew closer, I saw that it was clearly dislocated, dangling uselessly. Within seconds, Bec was by her side. A low humming sound, like the sound made by an old CRT television, accompanied the squeezing motions of her hands as the halfling woman channelled her magic into the wound.

"You should have seen it, sir! One minute, I was trying to replace the lens on my IR scope – and the next, I lean on the turret traverse, get my hand caught, and pop! Out comes my elbow and my shoulder!" Teeva giggled. "Just like the time I got my hand crushed by the breech block last summer – I really should pay more attention, sir, as you said!"

The humans around her, myself included, cringed at the sound her joints made as Bec moved them back into place. Teeva and the other elves were of course unperturbed, continuing to laugh as Bec popped her arm into the socket.

"Bec, check her over for other wounds. In the...ah barracks, preferably." I muttered.

"I could do it here, sir. She wouldn't be embarrassed."

"It's not her I'm worried about. I'm expecting the Prince at any moment, and you know what he's like."

Jumping up onto a crate, I whistled for attention.

"Alright people, return to your posts. When someone has a chance, we need those munitions distributed and put back in the storehouse. I'm expecting a visit from the Prince so make sure those bays look spick and span. And..." I stopped when I heard the sound of tearing fabric from Teeva's direction, followed by a burst of laughter from the assembled crew. "And would somebody please get my gunner a new uniform."


End file.
